Aussie word of the day: sick-bed edition

Jason is still sick. Very, very sick. Like, can barely breathe or stand up and is still having massive coughing fits in which he coughs up blood kind of sick.

In Aussie-speak, he's crook, mate.

Saturday or Sunday night (they're all running together at this point), I was downstairs in my bedroom, futzing around on the computer. Jason was feeling somewhat human and was up in the kitchen giving Zeke some dinner.

All of a sudden, I heard Zeke yelling, "Daddy! DADDY! Wake up!! Wake up, Daddy!"

And then I heard Jason moaning.

"DADDY WAKE UP!!"

Something's not right, I thought to myself.

I sprinted up the stairs to find Jason passed out cold on the floor. He came to a few seconds later.

"What happened?? Are you OK?"

"I don't know. I was standing at the sink and then I was on the floor and I heard Zeke yelling at me to wake up. I must have passed out."

"Jesus Christ. I told you to take it easy. Get into bed now, please."

It turns out his pneumonia is viral, not bacterial, meaning it doesn't respond to antibiotics. So instead of being better within 5 days or so, as the ER doctor predicted, it looks like he's going to be out for at least another week and a half. Another week and a half of him feeling like shit, not being able to breathe, not being able to do anything.

I was telling my mom about it this morning.

"Poor thing!" she lamented.

"Yeah, which one?" I asked.

"You, of course."

I'm trying really hard to keep it together for everyone. The kids are diapered and fed and in laundered clothes, and I'm doing my best to keep the house from looking like the "before" part of an episode of Clean House. This too shall pass, I guess.

In the meantime, happy Australia Day, everyone!